


Please

by greenbloodedcomputer



Series: I Have Been and Always Shall Be Yours [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbloodedcomputer/pseuds/greenbloodedcomputer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard finds he is having severe difficulties dealing with Spock's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: graphic depictions of a SUICIDE ATTEMPT, please do not read if this is upsetting.

_The pressure of Spock pressing into him from behind was comforting and familiar. Leonard rolled his hips up to press further into his husband. He groaned and whispered through their bond, begging Spock to take him. He could feel strong fingers pressing into his skin, steadying him, stroking his spine, running over his ass, pressing into him, stretching him._

Leonard opened his eyes to a dark room. The rumble of the engines reverberated through the lower decks and gently hummed to him, reminding him immediately of where he was. The Enterprise. The doctor stretched a hand out to the other side of the bed expecting to land on a slightly cool, naked body. When he felt nothing he panicked and twisted around to search for him.

It all came flooding back in one intense tidal wave of hatred and loneliness. Spock was gone. His side of the bed, of course, was empty. Leonard’s empty fingers twitched, twisting absently around the edge of Spock’s pillowcase. He sighed heavily, allowing the now-familiar feeling of hopelessness to bubble up in his chest, chasing his breath out of his lungs. Tears formed behind his eyes and he inhaled sharply to steady himself. 

It was nights like this that really tore him apart. He was painfully hard and leaking through his briefs. Images of Spock under him, over him, inside of him, with him were dancing in his mind and he pushed them out of the way. Leonard gathered a small amount of energy and rolled onto his stomach, pressing his hips hard into the mattress and praying to God that these feelings would go away. A whisper of a voice inside told him that his reaction was natural, but this voice only made his breath catch and the tears drip onto the sheets beneath him. 

His fingers tightened around the pillow and he pulled it close to his face so he could inhale deeply. The fabric still smelled like Spock, though less now that Leonard had been desperately clinging to it night after night. His own pillow smelled like Jim, that musky aftershave and clean scent of professionalism that dripped away as soon as the captain crawled into his bed to comfort him. Kirk had stayed with him a few nights, most likely because he was worried what Leonard would do if left alone, but the contact was more helpful than he knew. 

The doctor was sure he was going crazy. Certifiably insane. He’d not mentioned it to anyone for fear of being ripped from the Enterprise, the only thing he had left in his life. Since Spock’s death he had been hearing his husband at night and during quiet moments when he was alone with his thoughts. The thoughts were not a self-imposed voice - they were independent. Voices like that are a sign of severe mental illness and distress. They required medication to cure. Lots of therapy. 

But he didn’t want that. He could deal with it on his own. And besides...it was sort of nice to pretend it really was Spock speaking to him. Like their bond had kept a part of him with Leonard. Even though he knew that was impossible. 

He rolled his hips again, images of Spock burned and dying playing behind his eyelids. He pressed his eyes shut tighter and he remembered the last time they spoke. Spock had inquired about Scotty’s health in Engineering. As soon as he lifted his hand to perform the nerve pinch Leonard knew what was happening. Spock pushed a heartfelt apology to his husband through the bond and before he could protest the doctor was unconscious.

He could only imagine Spock catching him and sitting him gently on the floor. He knew if he had tried to stop the radiation with his husband there that Leonard would have done everything in his power to try and stop him. He would have tackled Spock, thrown himself in the way, hell, even shot him just to get him to stop. But if Spock hadn’t saved the ship they’d all be dead.

The needs of the many and all that.

But every night Leonard found himself wondering if he would have preferred everyone being dead to living in this hell. Then at least they would have been dead together. 

At this thought he hiccuped, panic welling up in his chest again. This hadn’t been the first time this thought crossed his mind. Without Spock to help him regulate his emotions, Leonard’s panic and depression had been crippling. In the two weeks that had passed since the death, Leonard had been back to sickbay twice and both times he’d suffered a panic attack so intense that he’d vomited on the floor and Christine had to knock him out with a hypo. He was slowly facing the fact that he just couldn’t manage himself anymore. He had weighed his options and nearly always came to the same conclusion -- he couldn’t do it. 

The doctor sobbed hard now, pressing himself face first into his pillow and hoping he’d just forget to breath long enough that he’d pass away. Perhaps the pain would just shock his body so much that he’d have a heart attack or something. He was getting older now. It was possible that his body would just give up. 

He felt a little nudge of inspiration and his thoughts turned to Starfleet training. What was the most effective way to die? Old fashioned way was to hang himself, but on a starship that wasn’t a reality. Pills weren’t used commonly, and he had none, so that was out of the question. ODing on hypos was viable, but he would have to go to sickbay and then they would _find_ him there. Chris would find him. He couldn’t do that to her. 

The best option would be to just stay in his room. If he did it now, during gamma shift, no one would know. They’d all still get a good night’s sleep and not have to deal with clean up until the morning. Leonard slowly rolled onto his back and pushed himself into a sitting position. The room was stifling, like Spock used to have it. Despite turning the temperature down each night before bed, he woke with it turned up each morning and he’d given up on trying to fix it. It seemed the room was taunting him. 

He glanced around in the dark, searching for some ideas. His eyes landed on a small box on the shelves to his left. One possessed a knife his grandfather had given him. So many years ago, before he had been with Spock, he’d cut himself with it in a drunken stupor and the Vulcan first officer had come to his rescue. For many years, Spock kept the knife in his own quarters just in cast Leonard was tempted to use it again, but the doctor never needed it. 

At that time, he’d been stupid and intoxicated and cut the wrong place on his arm. He’d been angry and out of his head. Tonight he wasn’t. He was perfectly sane, except for the voices in his head. So he shoved up and scooted from the bed. He shuffled across the carpet, devoid of emotion and feeling, and placed a numb hand on the box. The lid was cold and made of a thin material. The knife, however, was thick, heavy, and made Leonard feel like he had some control for the first time in two weeks. It was comforting. He felt relief. 

He had to knick an artery, not a vein. They sustained higher pressure than the veins and if severed would most likely result in circulatory collapse and a lack of blood to major organs. This was also known as bleeding out. 

Leonard opened the knife in one hand and lifted his opposite arm high enough that he could see it in the dim light of the room. Hand still closed around the knife, he pressed practiced fingers to his arm to find his target and before giving another thought he pressed the blade in hard and ripped it away.

At first, he felt nothing. It was amazing how difficult it was to slice through human flesh without the proper tools, but the knife was sharp and he could see blood. A lot of blood. And then it hit him all at once. 

The pain in his arm spread like wildfire, shooting to his brain and the rest of his body like a million tiny bullets. His reaction was to shriek and grab the wound with his opposite hand. The knife fell to the floor. He was light headed and couldn’t find his breath. His head was spinning. He was dying. Quickly. Oh shit.

He dropped to his knees, desperately clutching at his wounded arm, staring wildly, gasping for breath, and having absolutely no idea what to do. So he screamed. Leonard’s voice sounded like a stranger’s to his ears, but he screamed. He wasn’t sure words were coming out, but his voice was being heard. 

How many minutes were left? Was someone coming? Did he want them to? What would happen if a security officer found him? What if a medic came in? He was in his underwear. Shit. They were going to find his old, wrinkly fucking body all covered in blood...he didn’t think this through. Oh God. Dear God. Jesus. I’m sorry. Please forgive me God. Our father. Who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. 

Leonard didn’t hear the door open behind him, but he did feel a set of strong arms under his, lifting him, dragging him to the bathroom, running the shower. In the mirror he saw an all too familiar face behind him, expressionless, determined, not at all confused. It wasn’t until he saw Jim’s face that he started to cry. Shit. No. Fuck. 

Leonard leaned heavily on the doorframe, folded into himself, sobbing and screaming and choking on his own spit. Jim dragged him to the shower stall and all but threw the older man inside. The captain took a pile of washcloths from the shelf and held them to Leonard’s arm tightly. 

“Bones.” His voice was harsh, stringent, almost angry. Demanding. This was a technique Spock used to pull Leonard from panic attacks. “Where is your medkit? Doctor.” Leonard was lightheaded and feeling himself slowly losing consciousness. How long had it been since the cut? He gestured vaguely to the bedroom. 

Jim was gone and back within seconds with the medkit. He threw it open on the floor. “Stop the bleeding! Bones, which one?” Leonard didn’t answer, but fell heavily against the side of the shower stall. He hiccuped. “Bones!” Jim jumped to his feet and grabbed his friend by both shoulders. “Stop the bleeding!” 

“Tran...tranexamic…”

The captain was on the floor again, digging through the hypos for anything that looked familiar. He hastily loaded one and stabbed it into Leonard’s leg. The doctor didn’t respond except to continue struggling for breath. 

“Aut--autosuture.”

Jim dug through the case and found a large, elongated piece of metal. He stood up and presented it to Bones. Three minutes had passed and the doctor was white as a sheet. His breathing at slowed almost to a stop and his body was draped onto the wall. 

“How do I do it?” 

Leonard didn’t answer. 

“Dammit, Bones!”

Leonard struggled to open his eyes. “Brachial artery. Cut horizontally. Flip switch. Hold lever. Trace along wound.” 

Jim took strong hold of the injured arm and dropped to his knees as Leonard sunk to the floor. The wound was too bad for him to get a clear shot. There was blood everywhere on the walls, the floor, all over both of them. It ran down the drain, onto the floor, under the toilet. Jim set the suture to the on position and started stitching up everything he could find. Every few seconds he would wipe at the crook of the doctor’s arm with a wet towel to give himself a better view.

As the hypo kicked in, Leonard was becoming more and more aware of his surroundings. He realized that he had just tried to kill himself and, had Jim not found him, he would have succeeded. He began to cry again. 

“No no no...Bones don’t. Don’t worry. It’s almost done. You’re going to be fine.” 

He didn’t understand. Leonard wanted to be gone. As Jim kept a strong hand around his wrist, Leonard hid his face in his shoulder and cried. The longer Jim spend healing him, the harder he cried, and soon his breathing was inconsistent. He choked and sobbed and wailed and groaned. His entire body shivered and struggled.

“Listen to me. Breath,” Kirk instructed. Leonard took a shuttering, sharp gasp. “Deeply. One full breath. Commander, that’s an order.” The doctor nodded and sucked a lungful of air into his body. It escaped as a sob. “Again.” 

What felt like an eternity since Jim had entered the room had only been about six minutes. A soaked, distraught, half-naked doctor fought for breath as Kirk continued to stitch him up. After his breathing had gone back to normal, Jim hesitantly pressed a soft hand to Leonard’s chest. “What can I give you for palpitations?” 

At first, the doctor said nothing. And then he muttered, without looking at his captain, “Five milligrams of Alprazolam.” Jim left to consult the medkit again. Leonard closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. A minute later there was a hiss and the doctor’s entire body calmed down almost immediately. 

He took a proper, deep breath and sat. Jim sat opposite of him, watching him silently. After a few minutes of silence Jim stood up and turned off the shower. He fetched a towel, wrapped up his friend’s small, frail body, and pulled him onto the bathroom floor so they were sitting side by side. 

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Jim spoke up. 

“Why?”

Leonard didn’t respond for a long time. He thought about all the different answers he could give. He thought of explaining the relationship between Vulcan mates, how it affected his psyche, about his dream...but he didn’t feel like talking about any of that. 

Finally, he gave a defeated sigh and sat up a little, pushing off from the wall. “I can’t do it anymore, Jim,” he said. His voice was a little slurred and he didn’t feel much of anything due to the medication. “I just can’t do it.” 

Usually, when he thought these things, the little voice popped up in his head and told him ‘yes you can’, but there was no voice. There was nothing. 

Jim didn’t answer for a moment, considering his words carefully, and then he simply responded, “But you have to.” 

Leonard raised an eyebrow and looked over to his friend.

“Bones, you...I. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, I can’t, but you can’t give up. You can’t leave. You can’t leave me. I need you.” 

Leonard turned away, hiding his face in his towel. 

Jim suddenly rolled over onto his knees, facing Leonard in close proximity and gently taking the doctor’s face in his hands. “Please. I love you. I can’t lose you.” His eyes were filled with tears. “You are my best friend. Spock was my best friend. I can’t live without both of you. Stay with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll...I’ll do anything, just please don’t leave me. I don’t think I would survive it.”

Since Spock’s death, Jim had been very strong, quiet, and shown almost no emotion in response to what happened. He had been strong for his whole crew. Leonard hadn’t realized just how much Spock’s death must have hurt him too. 

“Bones, I need you.” 

Leonard’s heart went out to the man. The doctor had always had a problem refusing other people’s requests, and here was Jim Kirk, his best friend, the man who had saved his life time and time again, begging him to just _stay alive_. What could he say? 

“Okay, Jim. I’ll try.”


End file.
